MITSUAKI KOJIMA

Summer gone
fewer at breakfast
seaside hotel

The maitre d' directs the waiter to set fewer places this morning. Cosmos are put in vases on the tables instead of daisies. The number of customers has steadily declined since September. Waiters have been let go. Tourists walk along the beach rather than go for a swim. Shadows lengthen. A cool autumn breeze whips up ocean waves. Only the haikuist seems anchored in this melancholic scene. Shinya Ozawa matter-of-factly marks the inevitable passage of time.

Polish poet, Katarzyna Predota, pens a similar scene at a European seaside resort. Shiro Ogawa records where the summertime swimmers have gone.

Last day of summer
lifeguard's long shadow
on the beach

Tanned boy
sits at a classroom desk
end of summer

Valeria Barouch describes what happens at a train station in Switzerland when the train is delayed. She traveled to Australia this summer. The scent of flowers there were quite different from the European species she was used to. Only the moon was readily recognizable.

Rail platform
school children skip rope
till the next train

Midnight Down Under
stepping into new fragrance
wrapped in moonlight

Finnish poet Maija Haavisto left a bit of jam out on her breakfast table to the delight of hungry insects. Polish poet Artur Lewandowski uses pastels to paint a landscape of gray timber fences and soft purple and pink flowers.

Rhododendron
a buzzing jam
bumblebees

Crooked fence
the sweet peas
round the post

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